


Remember me

by XCuteAsHale



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But if you squint hard enough and use your imagination there might be some fluff traces, Fluff, Geralt is slightly emotionally constipated, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer - Freeform, Multi, Okay it might not be very fluffy, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer is too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCuteAsHale/pseuds/XCuteAsHale
Summary: It started with a comment, innocent as may be, a small complaint of being too old for sleeping on the cold ground anymore. His eyes, his wonderful eyes, had grown lines around them. A gray hair. Small things that went past Geralt’s notice, but were plucked apart by her vicious tongue, only betrayed by the small furrow of her brows. Her spells had done what they could to delay it, to stop the coursing of time, to give him more of it. He hadn’t noticed, at first, of course. The bard. The boy. The man.--Time might not matter to a witcher, or a witch, but Jaskier is only human, and for humans, time takes it's toll.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	Remember me

**Author's Note:**

> A very late night chat with my wonderful DenaCeleste brought this into the world.
> 
> It's my first dive into the Witcher fandom, so I do hope you enjoy it.

The years held little meaning to the likes of him, seasons blending with each other, differed only by the rain or snow - time passing like sand through his fingers. It hardly mattered after a while. After the nightmares had ended and his voice had grown hoarse from crying after his mother. It seemed so long ago, and yet like no time had passed at all. He had walked the earth for too many decades, wandering by himself, with only Roach as his companion, not caring for how people would age and wilt and die by the times he had passed their villages again and again. Monster after monster, all taken down for the small price of coins handed to him by humans with suspicious eyes and sneering lips. 

He had been one of them, once, a long time ago. A human. Weak. 

Meeting her had changed it, if only for a moment, had reminded him to pay attention to the grains of the sand of time. Lips curved into coy smiles, body soft under his hands, nails sharp against his skin. Her laughter had created a crack in the wall surrounding him, her scolding tongue both infuriating and entertaining. They found a safe harbour within each other, for her; the opportunity to straighten her back with pride, for her to show her powers to their true extent. For him the peace of having someone seeing him for who he was, to remind him of the differences he contained from the monsters he slayed. For them both, someone to fall into.

As the seasons changed he wanted to grasp hold of her, to keep her in his arms until their times had run their course, but the look in her eyes had stopped him cold. She hadn’t been his to keep for eternity - merely for a passing moment of time. She winked at him before she left, calling out that they were fated to meet again, and again, and again.

He had wondered many times since, if she had contained the power to see what was to come, how she could have been cruel enough to allow him to live through it. He had wondered many times since, if it was her kindness that allowed him to do so.

Their first meeting had been by accident. A pub, filled to the brim, and him. A bard. Singing tales of old and new, of monsters and gods and witches. He had merely wandered in for a meal, a bed if there was one - but faith had intervened, had brought the bards eyes to him. He had tried his hardest to keep him away, for what use could the white wolf have of a human? A boy, for despite how he puffed up like a cat when the word was used, it was what he was. Questions had been answered, barely, by mere grunts, and his presence announced to be a great grievance, an annoyance. But despite it all, he had stayed, he had glued himself to Geralt like a overly loyal dog. Even when she had returned, he had stayed.

He had expected blood, curses and snarling the first time they met. Had expected her to be too possessive, to reluctant to allow a human into their fold, had expected him to refuse her, a witch, a stranger. He hadn’t expected a simple raised eyebrow, and a cool introduction. He hadn’t expected them to allow themselves, if somewhat reluctantly, to fall into each other. 

  
  


“Pet.”

“Witch.”

\--

“Still here, are you?”

“No one has killed you yet, then?”

\--

“Take care of our witcher, boy.”

“Worry about yourself, witch.”

  
  


It had taken long, too long looking back, for him to notice. 

It started with a comment, innocent as may be, a small complaint of being too old for sleeping on the cold ground anymore. His eyes, his wonderful eyes, had grown lines around them. A gray hair. Small things that went past Geralt’s notice, but were plucked apart by her vicious tongue, only betrayed by the small furrow of her brows. Her spells had done what they could to delay it, to stop the coursing of time, to give him more of it. He hadn’t noticed, at first, of course. The bard. The boy. The man.

The grief of it had nearly broken him.

  
  


“Time catches up to him, Geralt.”

“No, I won’t allow it.”

“There isn’t anything we can do.”

“Fuck that.”

  
  


For all he had been unmade, for all the power he possessed, there was nothing he could do to save his human. There were no monsters to be slayed, no one he could wield his sword at, or raise his fists to. In the end, Geralt of Rivia, the great white wolf, had to be saved by a human. Had to have his fears soothed by gentle hands running over his shoulder, cupping his cheeks and scratching through his hair. Teasing remarks, gentle reminders of the time they had spent, memories brought up of fights and songs and firsts. First kisses. First fucks. First fights, and first separations. The first reunition. 

“You’ll remember me-”

“Will I?”

“You’ll remember me when the dawn breaks, won’t you?”

“Until my very last.”

He hadn’t wanted to listen, to see him turning towards her with hazy eyes, hands shaking as he lifted them towards her. He hadn’t wanted to witness the pain drawn so clearly on her face, the devastation written in the hard set of her lips, and the shine in her eyes. He had closed his eyes when he saw that he was turning towards him, unwilling, if only for a moment, to look him in the eyes. Geralt knew he would promise him the world, if he asked. 

“And you’ll remember me when you hurt, right?”

“Always.”

“And when you’re on the road, and alone, you’ll remember me then, right?”

“I’ll remember you.”

  
  


Promises made, promises held, was all there was left. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no regrets. There might be a sequel, or more likely a prequel, at some point, depending on how this part is recieved. 
> 
> Come yell at me in [Hell.](https://discord.gg/3p7K94G)


End file.
